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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381291">The Light and the Obstacle That Casts It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoids/pseuds/paranoids'>paranoids</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:15:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22381291</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoids/pseuds/paranoids</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and El are separated. Again. This time, entering their freshman year of high school and everything is anything but easy. On top of the loss of one another, El is suffering from a fractured relationship with Will, and Mike feels like he’s losing more of the party than just El. When things are tough, even in the absence of the supernatural, will Mike and El’s bond prove strong enough to hold the party—and each other—together? </p><p>Set post-season 3.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dustin Henderson &amp; Mike Wheeler, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers &amp; Eleven | Jane Hopper, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers &amp; Eleven | Jane &amp; Dustin Henderson &amp; Maxine Mayfield &amp; Lucas Sinclair &amp; Mike Wheeler, Will Byers &amp; Eleven | Jane Hopper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Light and the Obstacle That Casts It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi everyone !!! Soph and I coming at you with a new fic we decided to write together and I couldn't be MORE excited that we are collaborating together! We decided to do a canon-compliant fic set post season 3 just after El moves with the Byers away from Hawkins! Expect plenty of angst and tension but hopefully not without a payoff ;) </p><p>This first chapter is written by me, Ally (paranoids)! Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>El could tell Will was reluctant about her. He had been all that past summer, and even more standoffish when she’d come into his home, after Hop died. Jonathan had accepted El with open arms – she never had any trouble with him – but perhaps that was because he already knew what it was like to have a new addition to the family. Will was younger than him, after all. Either way, ever since she’d moved in with the Byers, Will barely spoke a word to her. Sometimes she could hear Joyce and Will whispering to each other in hushed voices, Joyce’s cadence a little pleading, desperate, and Will’s not necessarily harsh – he was a soft boy, El thought – but certainly unhappy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even in the way he chewed his cereal she could feel his aversion to her. And it wasn’t as though he was trying to make it known to her – it was almost natural, like she was some kind of disease. It was even worse now that they were separated from their group. Without Mike, Lucas, Max and Dustin to cushion the awkwardness of his obvious distaste for her, it just became ever more apparent. But it was more than Will’s coldness that made her miss them. She missed Lucas’s fart jokes, Dustin’s science camp gadgets, Max’s well-intentioned but misled boy advice, and Mike’s fingers softly combing through her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, she missed Mike. He had been her anchor when she lost Hop, always at her side when she needed him, always a safe distance when she needed her space – but never far enough that a quick call couldn’t bring him running back. That was the kind of boy he was. But he was too far away to get to in a moment’s notice. She longed to bike the backwoods with him, her hands clasped around his waist, her face nuzzled into the back of his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We feeling ready?” She heard Jonathan call out to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snapped back to reality. Will was giving her a strange, quizzical look from the front seat and she realized she had been staring at the back of his head this entire time, lost in thought. They had arrived at school, parked. She hadn’t noticed they’d stopped driving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes averted to her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted to say yes. To be brave. To say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve taken on a 50-foot monster, surely I can handle high school</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but the best she could manage was a shrug. She was anything but confident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan nodded, turning to his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will?” he asked before tousling his little brother’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Will said with a plastered smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a lie. She knew it, Jonathan knew it, Will knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of them were ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get going, then,” Jonathan was trying his hardest to sound energized for his siblings. Will was trying to match his energy with fake enthusiasm.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Jonathan said, and suddenly his hand was resting on El’s shoulder. Clearly, she was worse at hiding her misery than she thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be okay.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El nodded, knowing that it was going to be anything but. She should be grateful that she had Joyce, a place to live, her own room, and at least one brother figure, if not two. But the ache for Mike, Hopper, and her friends left her hollow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just high school, right?” Jonathan’s smile was warm, comforting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El swung her neon blue backpack over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and opened the car door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El hadn’t stepped fully outside and she could already feel the eyes on her. A little town – like Hawkins, and then again, not like Hawkins at all – meant that every new person was scrutinizing the Byers down to the last detail. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s nothing special about me. Nothing special at all. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried her hardest to live this truth. She, after all, didn’t have special abilities anymore. There was nothing to make her stand out, to make her a freak. She could be just like the rest of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will and El walked on either side of Jonathan, shielded by his senior status, as though that offered any kind of protection at all, to the front desk. An older woman with kind eyes and crusted lips gave them a smile as they approached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Byers, I presume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yep, that’s us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will and El, like terrified children, let Jonathan do the talking as he worked out the logistics with the kind, crusty lady at the front desk. El tuned them out until she heard her own name called and looked up to see the woman holding out a paper for her. Her schedule. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced over it, hardly taking the time to register what classes were what. The same papers that declared her Jane Hopper had fabricated her homeschooling from grades K through 8, but Joyce just couldn’t afford to have her homeschooled through high school, and El couldn’t just not go to school. “We have to assimilate,” Joyce had explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Assimilate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing she really paid attention to was the time the last bell would ring, indicating that she was free for the day. Jonathan had explained that the loud bells were signals to shuffle students from one place to another. Weird, but simple enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take a look at that,” Jonathan suggested, and she handed the paper over to him willingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he said and his lips turned down slightly at the corner. “Looks like we have different lunch periods. But at least you and Will have each other!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, at least there was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will smiled half-heartedly. She could tell he was disappointed, that some part of him, a large part, had wished that he and his brother could’ve had a period separate from her. El smiled back, not sure if they were putting on a show for Jonathan or one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bell interrupted her thoughts and all at once the halls were swarmed with students, all eyeing her up and down. For the first time in her life she felt what it was like to be self-conscious, suddenly unsure of the jeans Joyce had helped her pick out and of Hopper’s old flannel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will walked away without a word, without a goodbye, without anything to either of them. El sighed, audibly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jonathan elbowed her side. “Hey, want me to walk you to your first class?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>El didn’t know what she was going to do when lunch period arrived. She hadn’t thought much about it all day, trying her hardest to focus on the material in her classes. People had been friendly enough, eyeing her up and down as she walked in to each room, but there was hardly time to get to know her. She was surprised at how rigorous the coursework was. She didn’t know what she expected, but if she could learn and execute morse code she could probably learn algebra.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found her way to her locker and wedged herself between two other students. Combination: </span>
  <em>
    <span>16-9-41</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She remembered that well enough. She slowly began spinning the dial, her tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. 16 to the right, 9 to the left, 41 to the right again. OK. She pulled hard down, once, on the lock; it didn’t budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffed in frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it just needed one more try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She repeated the same steps again, remembering vaguely in the back of her mind the saying that insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting a different result. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again the lock remained closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How easy this would be with her abilities, to break open the lock with a simple will of the mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thrust her head forward to rest on the metal of the locker, exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep it together, El.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something she was forgetting. She knew it, she could feel it in her blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike’s voice was whispering in the shadows of her subconscious, and El strained to hear what the voice said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lockers are annoying bastards,” he said lowly, El resting her head on his shoulder as they both watched him fiddle with the lock in hand. “But it doesn’t take much to master.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mike had been giving her the 411 on high school all day, prepping for the Byers’ move. She’d be starting over a month late as it was, and though she had spent hours upon hours studying, Mike had insisted there was much more to school than metaphors and algebraic equations. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone from the party could’ve given her this information. Will, even Jonathan. But it was Mike who had insisted, and Mike was the only one from who she wanted to inherit the knowledge. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The trick is, that you turn it twice over on the second number. So you turn once to the right. Then, you turn left to get to the second number. But you pass over it once, go all the way around, and then land on it again. Like that.” He followed his own instructions on the display lock, but El wasn’t watching. She was watching the cracks in his chapped lips, widening as they formed a smile. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you looking at?” He asked sheepishly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You.” She placed a sudden kiss on his cheek.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They hadn’t shared much physical affection since the events of the past summer, after Hopper’s death. Of course, Mike had been there to hold her when she cried, but there had been a slight strain between them. Mike knew it was just a matter of giving her time, and so he never pushed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to miss you. Like, so much,” he blurted, because it was the truth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m going to miss you too,” she whispered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shook off the memory before the ache it created could consume her. She focused on what he had said about the lock, carefully spinning the dial around, once past the second number before landing on it. With an exhale of breath, she pulled down and, like magic, it unlocked, allowing her to grab her lunch from the inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks, Mike.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Joyce had packed her an egg salad sandwich, with an eggo waffle for dessert. “Eat the sandwich,” Joyce had pleaded with her, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. </span>
</p><p>OK. She’d eat the sandwich. </p><p>
  <span>It was only a matter of where. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere between third and fourth period she had decided to confront Will. She promised herself not to let her emotions get the better of her, and talking in a public place seemed like the best way to keep both of them under control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strolling down the aisles of tables with chattering students, she once again felt the burn of eyes on her back, heard the whispers, but she had her goal in mind and only one person she was interested in talking to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there he was. Sitting near the back corner of the room, surrounded by… a group of boys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dustin’s voice echoed in her mind: abort, abort, abort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned before approaching, but then she heard a voice calling out and knew it was directed at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Isn’t that your sister?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of the boys at the table with Will. Dark hair, tall, lanky. He reminded her a bit of Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stomach lurched. If only Mike could be with her now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spun around, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, waving at Will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will waved back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah. Step sister.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was frozen, not sure what to do. She had been called out, branded, kids were watching to see her next move.  She didn’t want to intrude on Will’s friends, but she also didn’t want to look like a freak, running away from any human contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… wanna sit with us?” The same tall dark-haired boy asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El smiled, nodded, secretly grateful for the invitation. “Sure,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She strolled over to the table, taking a seat on the end, across from the boy who had welcomed her into the group, and next to another friendly auburn-haired boy with glasses. Shorter, scrawnier, but with a warm enough countenance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what’s your name?” The boy asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“El.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. Simple, single-syllable name. I’m Zack. This is Brandon, Vincent, and Joe.” He pointed to each boy around the table as he named them, each one smiling in recognition. “We were just talking to your brother about maybe joining our comic book club. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span> good at art, as I’m sure you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>El nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s really, really good.” She glanced over and saw Will’s face flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you draw at all?” Vincent piped in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, okay. What do you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know what to say to that, so she shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Play any sports?” Brandon piped up from across the table, on the other side of Will. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” she said because it sounded better than a simple “no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Foreign languages?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“AV Club?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> “…no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright guys, chill with the third-degree,” Zack said and his leader-like energy once again reminded her of Mike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wouldn’t cry. No, she would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> start crying at this table filled with new peers at her new high school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you are interested, we have try-outs for pretty much everything in a couple weeks. New school, new opportunities.” He winked. He exuded a kind of confidence that was definitively different from Mike. That made her feel better, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you should join us after school, if you want,” he said, with a smile. “We’re gonna hang at my house. Watch a movie, maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced at Will, whose expression was unreadable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, but I’m supposed to call my boyfriend after school.” It was the one highlight of her day, the only thing she had been looking forward to. Hearing Mike’s excited voice on the other end of the line, hell, even just to hear his breathing. She missed him so much that she felt the physical ache in her bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK. Well, you’re always welcome.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled and, oddly enough, it was genuine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>El jumped from the car the minute Jonathan pulled into the driveway, bounding through the door and dumping her backpack on her bed. Will had gone home with his new friends, news that had made Jonathan particularly happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want to join them?” Jonathan asked, watching Will smile sheepishly as his gang of newfound buddies conversed around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike,” was all she said, and Jonathan didn’t argue. That pang of longing was familiar to him, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike picked up on the first ring, as though he had been waiting by the phone for her to call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MOM, YOU BETTER NOT BE ON THE LINE!” she heard him yelling in the background, before she could utter a ‘hello.’ Then, “El?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was soft and sweet and reminded her of home. Telephones were magical things, but they didn’t quite touch the power of seeing him in the void, or even better – in the flesh.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she breathed, and she tried not to sound like she was about to break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he echoed. “How was your first day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was okay… English is hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said. “What are you reading?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I forgot. Something about a bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To Kill a Mockingbird! We’re reading that too.” A beat of silence. “I can help you, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” El asked, a little more morosely than she had planned on sounding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over the phone. Or next time I visit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not until Thanksgiving.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK, over the phone, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt guilty; Mike was pointedly positive in contrast to El’s negativity, but she couldn’t help it. Nothing made sense without him there, and he was nowhere to be found. Her first day hadn’t been awful and still she felt lost, inconsolable. She was a strong girl, stronger than most, but the ache of loss was all-consuming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your day?” She asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh – good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike,” El spoke a little sternly. “You’re not lying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t bad here, El. Just… the same assholes, new setting.” He paused. “I kinda feel… I don’t know…” he was struggling to say what he needed to say, “lost, I guess. Without you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could practically feel the heat from Mike’s cheeks through the phone, but she smiled and a wave of near-relief crashed over her. Mike had vocalized her exact feeling and somehow knowing he felt the same way made it a little more bearable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” she said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They chatted a while more – classes, AV club, Lucas was considering the track team – until Nancy finally succeeded in ripping the phone from Mike’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, El, but can I talk to Jonathan now? Mike’s been yammering on for two hours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” El said simply, already feeling halfway restored from her and Mike’s conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handed the phone to Jonathan who had been hovering just outside the kitchen waiting for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, El,” he said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>El nodded and headed to her room. She figured she’d use this feeling of rejuvenation from her conversation with Mike to try and tackle some homework.
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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